


Stupid Dethbus

by seashadows



Category: Family Guy, Metalocalypse
Genre: F/M, Het and Slash, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Dethbus breaks down outside the Griffin household, all hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Dethbus

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Chris Griffin at the Detharmonic."

Chris was playing Call of Duty with Brian – and losing – when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” he shouted, jumping up from the couch. “Brian, sorry, but we gotta stop.”   
  
“We don’t have to stop,” Brian began, but Chris ignored him. He was going to lose anyway, probably, so this was a good excuse to quit while he was behind. Man, he could be _really_ sneaky sometimes.   
  
Turned out it was that manager guy at the door. “Hi,” Chris said, a little scared. That guy meant business. “Can I, um, can I help you with something? Except I’m not gonna go back to your house. I don’t like mean kitties.”   
  
“Are either of your parents here?” the manager guy asked. _Charles_ \- that was it. His name was Charles.   
  
“Um.” Chris had to think about that for a minute. “Yeah. Dad’s out drinking, but Mom’s here. _Mom!_ ” he yelled up the stairs. She was taking a nap, but maybe she wouldn’t mind being disturbed if it was because of famous people. “People are here!”   
  
“For god’s sake, keep your voice down!” Stewie shouted back.   
  
“I’m not talking to you, Stewie. MOM?”   
  
“What, Chris?” _Finally._ She was a really heavy sleeper sometimes.   
  
“People are here! And they want to talk to you.”   
  
“Fine.” Even from down here, Chris could hear her annoyed sigh. “But if this is some kind of door-to-door sales thing, I’m not responsible for my actions. Got it?”   
  
“It’s _not!_ ” Chris said, annoyed. Why didn’t she believe him when he said important stuff? “She’s coming,” he said, turning to Charles. “Sorry. She gets really bitchy and stuff when we wake her up.”   
  
Charles blinked. “It’s, uh, not a problem. The band just needs a minor favor. Well…a _major_ favor, if you look at it the right way –“   
  
“All right, I’m up. What’s going on?” Lois asked from the stairs, rubbing her eyes with one hand and smoothing her hair with the other. Her eyes went wide, though, when she saw Charles. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want this time?”   
  
“Our tour bus suffered a minor explosion outside your house,” Charles explained, gesturing with one arm so that they could see the smoking wreck in the street. “Our servants are working on towing it, but in the meantime, the band needs a place to stay. Could we persuade you to, ah, allow the imposition?”   
  
She blinked. “You mean you want to put a death metal band in the house? With children?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“What the _fuck?_ ”   
  
“We’ll pay you,” Charles offered without missing a beat.   
  
“Fine.”   
  


~

  
  
Peter, as usual, came home after work and a good round of beers at the Drunken Clam with Cleveland, Quagmire, and Joe. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but it had to be weird for him to open the door and find himself staring into the face of pure evil.   
  
Or a bassist – if the shoe fits, wear it, right?   
  
“What’re you doing here?” Murderface said, trying his hardest to look intimidating and failing. Chris, who was watching Toki play DDR, giggled at the way the chubby man’s ass wiggled when he put his hands on his hips. He still wasn’t fatter than Peter, though.   
  
“I _live_ here, you bastard,” Peter protested, and easily pushed Murderface aside. “Lois?” he yelled after looking around the crowded living room. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”  
  
“The band’s staying over, Dad!” Chris said happily, since Lois was cooking dinner in the kitchen with Nathan’s help (and it was _hilarious_ to see the big singer in a pink apron; Chris had pissed himself laughing when Nathan put it on. Then he’d had to change his pants, because they were _wet_ ).   
  
“What the _hell?_ ” Peter said again. “Those guys who snatched you? They’re stayin’ _here?_ Has your mother lost her freakin’ mind? And why do we suddenly have Dance Dance Revolution?” A big smile filled his face as he completely lost his train of thought. “I love Dance Dance Revolution! Dibs!” He raced forward, only to crash into Toki and fall on his back, out cold.   
  
“Thought so,” Brian said, taking a sip of his martini. “Hey!” He glared as Skwisgaar jabbed him in the side with his guitar. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing, _pal_.”   
  
Skwisgaar shrugged and kept playing. “Dat ams what she saids.”   
  
“What? No, it isn’t! Hmm…maybe it is.” Skwisgaar jabbed him again, and Brian yelped, gave him a dirty look, and jumped off the couch. “You’re a real bastard.”   
  
“Dat’s _Mister_ Fastest Guitarists to you,” Skwisgaar shot back.   
  
“Oh, piss off.” Brian wandered over to the TV, where Toki had started a new song, and wrapped himself around Toki’s leg. Chris thought he looked _really_ comfortable.   
  
“Helloes, doggie!” Toki turned the TV off and clapped his hands. “You’s a good doggies, _ja?_ You likes to haves de sex wit’ my leg!”   
  
“ _Grossch!_ ” Murderface shouted, making a face.   
  
“What?” Brian stopped, falling off like he’d been hit with a Taser (like the one the guys had used on Chris, after he hadn’t gotten neutered). “I’m a _dog_ , you jackasses! I can’t help it.”   
  
“Oh, sures.” Toki stared at his leg. “Dat feels weird. Skwisgaar?” He looked around. “Where Skwisgaar ams goes?”   
  
“I think he went outside,” Chris said, pointing at the open front door. “Look. It’s open.”   
  
Skwisgaar _was_ outside. He was also currently being molested by Quagmire, who had him backed up against his house and was being really, really…well, really _something_ (Chris hadn’t learned what it was yet, because whenever his mom and dad went off to have time alone, he wasn’t allowed to come with them). “Hey, beautiful,” Quagmire purred. “What say you show me your feet?”   
  
“What you means?” Skwisgaar asked.   
  
“Oh, _god!_ ” Quagmire jumped about a foot in the air, scuttling away from Skwisgaar like he was on fire. Or something. “You’re a _man!_ And I was gonna…oh, _god!_ ”   
  
“Hi, Mr. Quagmire!” Chris said, waving at him.   
  
“ _Chris!_ Why didn’t you tell me this hot chick isn’t a chick? I thought he was a chick! Giggidy.”   
  
Chris giggled. Whenever Quagmire said ‘giggidy’, it made him laugh, because that meant he wanted to do stuff with his ding-dong and some lady. “You didn’t know already? Come on, Mr. Quagmire, he’s _totally_ a guy!”   
  
“ _Ja_ , I don’ts got no vag-eyes-na,” Skwisgaar said. He looked _pissed_. “I you-know-whats de ladies every days.”   
  
“ _Eeeewwww!_ ” Quagmire squealed, and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him.   
  
After that, they went inside and had jambalaya. Peter still hadn’t learned to like it; he spit some out into his hand and shoved it at Lois, just like he did the first time they had it. “Nyeahhh!”   
  
“ _Dad_ ,” Chris groaned. “Come on, there are people here.”   
  
“Yeah, and I made that!” Nathan said indignantly. He was still wearing his apron for some reason. “Why won’t you eat it?”   
  
“Nyeahh!” Peter insisted.   
  
“Peter, _put it in your napkin_ ,” Lois told him.   
  
“ _Nyeahhh!_ ”   
  
“Oh, fine,” Nathan growled as Lois covered the rejected food with a spare napkin. “You should’ve eaten that, dude. It’s _metal_.”   
  
“What’s metal about it?” Pickles asked. “It’s just jambalaya, dood.” He took a drink of something that probably wasn’t water; Chris could tell because it came out of a flask and made him smile. Water didn’t make people smile, _ever_.   
  
“Fuck you,” Nathan said, glaring at him.   
  
Stewie gasped. “Lois! He said a _swear!_ ”   
  
“Mr. Explosion, there are _children_ here,” Lois said. Chris was glad she did, because he didn’t like hearing the F-word, either. It sounded mean. “Speaking of, where’s Meg?”   
  
“I dunno,” Peter offered. “She went up to her room hours ago. Maybe she’s still there, and by the way, we’re out of hot dogs.”   
  
“Is she pretending they’re the New York Knicks again?” Chris asked. He could hear her through the floor when she did that, so it was probably a good thing they were in the dining room, not the living room. Ew.   
  
Murderface choked, pounded the table, and sprayed water through his nose. “That’sch dischgushting!” he said, once he’d started breathing again. “Hot dogsch. They look like dicksch.”   
  
“That’s kind of the point,” Chris said. Boy, Murderface was really smart sometimes, but he could be really stupid, too.   
  
“What’s the point?” Oh, good, Meg was here. And…ew. She had an empty pack of hot dogs in her hand. “Sorry I’m late. I was…um…doing my homework.”   
  
“It’s summer,” Lois said, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“Whatever, Mom.” Meg made a face and sat down in the only available seat. It made a farting noise, and both Stewie and Brian started giggling, which set Chris off, too. They’d probably booby-trapped her seat with a whoopee cushion, _or_ she just had gas. Either way, it was hilarious.  
  
Murderface was looking at her weird. Like he actually _liked_ what he saw, or something.   
  
Oh, god.   
  
“I gotta go throw up,” Chris announced, and went to do just that.   
  


~

  
  
Halfway through the night, Chris decided that having the band over was a _terrible_ idea. All the sex was keeping him awake, and it was really, _really_ awkward.   
  
He could hear Skwisgaar and Toki totally doing it on the living room floor, for one. Ick. He tried to plug his ears with his pillow, but it was too big to go in (that’s what she said), and he couldn’t really block out when Skwisgaar said “Tells me if I goes too hards,” or when Toki started shrieking.   
  
Why would someone shriek when they were having sex? Weird.   
  
He could _also_ hear Murderface and Meg going at it. Murderface couldn’t find a condom, so they used a Milky Way wrapper, and Meg told him that it was okay, because she was on the pill for really heavy periods. That made Chris throw up again, this time in his bed.   
  
The smell was probably part of the reason he was still awake, come to think of it.   
  
There were weird noises coming from Stewie’s room, too. He didn’t know who was staying there, and he didn’t want to think about it. Like he said, though, he couldn’t block his ears, and it sounded like they had the Wisconsin nymphomaniac in there again. He kept hearing someone going “Oh, _craep!_ ”   
  
Then his mom and dad started doing it, and that was so gross that he just rolled out the window and slept at Mr. Swanson’s house. At least they didn’t have sex there, like, _ever_. Poor Mr. Swanson.   
  
No one even noticed when he came back the next morning, because they were too busy looking at Stewie when he ran over to Charles and kicked him in the shin. “Get a bloody muffler!” he shouted. “You kept me awake all night _spearing_ that drunkard!”   
  
“Yeah, hi,” Chris said, limping over to the counter and picking up some toast. “I went out the window and I think I hurt something.”   
  
“Who’s a cute little guy, huh?” Pickles said, and smiled at Stewie, patting him on the head.   
  
Stewie took out a semiautomatic machine gun and aimed it at his face. “Oh, piss off, you drunken bastard.”   
  
Dethklok didn’t sue, but Chris was pretty sure Skwisgaar was going to have those tooth marks on his arm for a while from where Brian bit him to make him stop choking Stewie . Whatever, though. Like Nathan kept saying, they were really brutal.   
  
And Meg kept throwing up, probably because Murderface was so gross that she couldn’t believe she’d slept with him. Chris was getting really sick of using the toilet at Mr. Brown’s house, because Cleveland Jr. always walked in on him, and his dad liked to throw things at the house that made him fall on the lawn. Now he had porcelain bits in his fanny.   
  
Metal. Except when they got infected…stupid riffing Dethbus.


End file.
